


Slow and Steady

by cesau



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 16:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10767861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cesau/pseuds/cesau
Summary: Meg is convinced they're meant to be together. Zihark really, really wishes she'd let it go.





	Slow and Steady

After the last battle, with the world suddenly righted in a way he never imagined possible, Zihark was exhausted. They all were, he mused as he prepared to set out for the road. He wasn't sure where he would go now, but there was no reason to stay in the capital.

All the goodbyes had already been said. The laguz had been the first to leave, followed shortly thereafter by the Greil Mercenaries. Then it was the Dawn Brigade, who had invited him to return to Daein with them, but he thought that part of his life was over now. He was ready for a clean start, away from the homeland he'd once tried to forget. He thought he might really be able to do it this time.

In that vein, he'd agreed to travel with the merchants' caravan, Muston and his company. Ilyana seemed happy enough at the thought, though he suspected it had more to do with her relief at no longer being the designated muscle of the group, as well as some misguided belief that he was bringing food along.

It turned out they were heading south from Sienne on the same day the Crimean royal knights were beginning their own homeward journey. He found out his old friend Brom was traveling with that group on the morning of their departure, when the farmer-turned-soldier sneaked up on him while he loaded the caravan.

“Howdy, Zihark!” Brom called out. He was still wearing his armor, though Zihark didn't see why that should surprise him. After all, it had been only days since the final battle, and he was marching home with a platoon of royal knights.

“Well met, Brom,” he said with a grin. “Ready to get back to Ohma, are you?”

“Sure am,” he answered gladly. “Been missing the old lady something fierce, you know? And the kids are all grown now, I suppose, but I still hate to be away for too long. You never know when they might need me! Specially now, with the busy season right around the corner.”

“I'm glad.”

“Me too. Just a shame we didn't get a chance to catch up more, since it's been so long.” He smiled and winked. “Now just remember, you ever find yourself in Ohma, you'll have a roof over your head and food for your belly. Don't be a stranger, you hear?”

“I'll keep it in mind,” Zihark replied indulgently. Right now, he had no intention of heading east, but the idea of having a place to return to wasn't an unwelcome one. Maybe someday he'd even take Brom up on that offer.

Meanwhile, his old friend had turned to leave, but as soon as he'd gone, another visitor arrived. Zihark turned around for only a moment, and then a miniature, redder version of Brom was standing in his place, twisting her hands nervously.

“Oh, Meg,” Zihark said with some trepidation. He remembered the subject of their last real conversation a little too clearly. “Can I help you?”

“Um...” She fidgeted in place, the movement made more awkward by her clunky armor. “Where are you heading now?”

“Traveling with some merchants for a while,” he said, nodding toward the caravan. “After that, I suppose I'll go back to mercenary work. And you're heading back to Ohma with your father, aren't you?”

“Yup,” she said, nodding vigorously, pigtails bobbing up and down. He waited, but she made no move to leave or to continue the conversation.

“Right then, I'll just-”

“When are we gonna get married?” she suddenly blurted out. After the initial surprise had worn off, Zihark groaned and scratched his head. This was exactly what he was afraid would happen.

“We're not,” he said.

“But-but we have to!” Meg cried. “My daddy said-”

“It's not up to him!”

“But I _want to_ ,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. She stared at her feet miserably. “Is it cause I'm not pretty? Cause I'm not fancy like other girls?”

“You're a very sweet girl, but...you're only a child, Meg,” he explained gently. “You're too young to be talking about marriage with anyone, let alone someone my age. You're a precious friend to me, but that's all. Someday, you'll meet a boy your own age, and you'll look back at this and laugh.”

The girl frowned and brought a hand up to her chin, an expression of concentration on her face, her sadness washed away, at least temporarily. She tilted her head back and forth, humming, and then nodded exuberantly.

“Yea, I get it!” she yelled suddenly, cracking a big smile. “So I'm just too young now, huh? Well, that's okay then, because I'll just keep growing! In a coupla years, I'll be an adult, and _then_ we can get married!”

“Oh, Meg...” Zihark sighed and shook his head, then forced a smile. They had to hit the road soon, and he may as well leave her happy. “That's...sure. If you still feel this way when you're an adult, we'll revisit the subject.”

She was such an energetic girl. He was certain she'd have found a new paramour by then.  
__

He was wrong.

Three years down the line, he was looking for mercenary work in southern Begnion when their paths crossed once more. He found himself wandering a port town not unlike the one where he'd first met Brom and Lethe and Mordecai, as well as Ike and the rest of his friends from the war. 

He'd heard tell of a group here readying for an expedition into the Grann desert, and he intended to be a part of it. If he recalled correctly, Muarim and Tormod had lived there once, and there might still be laguz in the area he could meet. In the worst-case scenario, he wanted to be around to prevent any potential ugliness between the mercenaries and the desert inhabitants.

On his way to the guildhouse, he was distracted by a small group of travelers making a ruckus near the market stalls, mercenaries by the look of them. A pair of young swordswomen and a veritable giantess in heavy armor. The three of them were bounding between stalls, loudly ogling the merchandise. The vendors all seemed more amused than annoyed, so he was prepared to keep walking, before the biggest of the women let out an excited squeal and ran his way.

Eyes wide, he prepared to back away from the incoming juggernaut. But as she got closer, he got a good look at her face, and he had to laugh. Meg was certainly taller than the last time he'd seen her, and she'd cut her hair short, but her round, cheerful face was the same as it had ever been. He was only grateful she stopped before she actually ran him over, jumping up and down in excitement. She was at least as tall as him now, which was entertaining, given her father's short stature.

“Lookit that!” she exclaimed cheerfully, clasping her big hands together in front of her armored chest. Apparently, the years had done away with the last of her shyness. “I just knew we'd meet again! You remember me, right?”

“Of course I do, Meg,” he answered with laugh. “How are you? How's Brom and the rest of your family?”

“Oh, they're all swell! I think. I haven't been home in a while, but we write sometimes. Say, what brings you out here?”

“Ah. I heard there's an expedition going into the desert.”

“Sure is, that's my group. Did you wanna tag along? We've still got space, and it's good pay.”

Well, that solved that problem in a most unexpected way, though it also raised a few questions.

“I'm in,” he said. “But what are you doing with a mercenary group anyway? I thought you went back to Ohma after the war.”

Meg blushed and looked away, wringing her hands in a familiar gesture he recognized from their time in Daein.

“You really gotta ask?” she mumbled. Then she coughed and said, “A-anyway, if you wanna join up, let me introduce you to the boss.”

He followed her back to the local inn where the rest of the company was staying, and she introduced him to the leader of the band. The mercenary captain told him they were leaving in the morning, and he worked up a contract. The pay was actually pretty meager, but it was enough to get by, and he hadn't joined for wealth.

While they spoke, he kept catching Meg staring at him and blushing, and he started to worry that her old crush hadn't gone away. So before she could stop him, he slipped away and rented himself a room, and he spent the night locked away there.

It was cowardly, sure, but it delayed an awkward conversation.  
__

Alas, a delay was all it was.

They set out in the morning on the road heading north, and Zihark managed to quietly blend in with the rest of the small company. Meg, it seemed, was always surrounded. It made sense that she would have a lot of friends, given her cheerful nature. Thankfully, as long as they were around, she seemed hesitant to start a conversation with him.

But a few days later, when they had actually reached the desert, she finally managed to corner him alone. While the others had stopped for a rest in the dry heat, Zihark had ventured a little further ahead to get a look of the land unbothered. A heavy clanking behind him alerted him to Meg's presence. She wandered through the sand behind him looking sweaty and miserable, and he wondered how heavy that armor was, though she never actually complained.

“Shouldn't you be back with the group?” he asked. Meg fidgeted, a blush rising on her face already, and he had the sinking feeling they were about to 'revisit' a long-forgotten promise. “...Yes, you should, and I should, too. Let's just be going-”

“Last time, you said we'd get married!” she yelled suddenly. Zihark looked at her and then around her frantically, hoping very much no one else had heard that.

“I said we could _talk about it_ ,” he corrected quickly. Meg frowned.

“You said, if I still wanted to get married when I was an adult-”

“-that we could discuss it.”

“Yea, well, I wanna discuss it,” she said with a pout. Zihark looked longingly back to where the others had stopped.

“Does it have to be now?” he asked. At the distraught look on her face, he sighed. “Okay, let's talk about it now.”

“I wanna get married,” she said bluntly.

“Why?” he groaned, exasperated.

“Well, shucks,” she said, surprised and flustered. “I guess it's just...you're a real swell guy, Zihark. You're nice and you're strong and you're handsome, too! What girl _wouldn't_ wanna marry you?”

He flinched. She might not have meant for it, but those words stung. He could think of one girl who hadn't...

“Meg,” he began, collecting his thoughts, “that's not why you get married. First of all, we haven't even spoken in three years, and we barely knew each other before that, either. Sure, you might think those things now, but that's only because you've never had to live with me. And a traveling mercenary doesn't make for a good husband. Look at me! I'm next to poor as it is, how would I support you?”

“I don't care a lick about that!”

“It doesn't matter,” he said sternly. “Meg, you marry someone because you love them. You don't love me.”

She was quiet for a moment, and then, face blazing red, she looked him in the eye and said, “Maybe I do.”

“You don't,” he repeated, shaking his head. “You have a crush. You'll grow out of it.”

“Haven't yet,” she muttered darkly. Then she sighed. “Is it cause there's someone else? Is there someone you love already?”

“There was,” he admitted. “A long time ago, someone very precious to me. I don't know that I'll ever feel that way about another person. Do you understand? It's not because there's anything wrong with you, and I'm not saying this to hurt you. But I'm just not interested in marriage.”

“Someone else, huh?” Meg muttered to herself. “Okay, then. We should head back.”

The two of them started back to the rest of the group in silence. Meg stared into the distance, a contemplative look on her face, and Zihark was content to let her do so. Maybe a message that direct would finally make it sink in.  
__

It did not.

It took all of two days before Meg was back to proposals, as vigorous as ever. All his words had done was give her new ammo to fight with, apparently.

“I have a question,” she told him as the company explored an old ruins. While the rest of the mercenaries searched for hidden doors or emptied out ancient pots, Zihark had stopped to admire an old mural along one sandy wall. It seemed to depict beorc and laguz together, and he wondered how old this place was. It was a fascinating find.

“What's that?” he asked, reaching out to trace the image with his hand.

“Who was that person you were in love with?”

His hand dropped back down to his side and he groaned.

“Meg, I don't really-”

“It's just, I was thinking, and I don't wanna intrude, but are you one of those kinds who don't go for women? Daddy said once-”

“Excuse me?” What exactly had Brom been telling the girl? And what had Zihark done to give off that impression? Of course, agreeing might actually get her off his back.

The impulse to just go along with her assumption and lie was strong, but he resisted. After all, for all the trouble she was causing him, she wasn't a bad person by any means, and she deserved his honesty, at least. Also, she might go telling her father about it, and for all Zihark knew, the man had some sons he was trying to pair off, too.

“...No, the person I loved was a woman. A laguz woman.”

“Oh.” For whatever reason, the answer seemed to make her sad.

“Is there something wrong with that?” he asked, though he wasn't actually sure he wanted to know the answer.

“Aw, no, I guess not. It's just, I thought maybe that's why you didn't want to marry me. But I guess you do like girls...just not me. I don't blame you. I'm kind of a handful, huh?”

“Meg, I like you just fine,” he said, annoyed but also slightly concerned at her apparent self-image. All else aside, she was the daughter of a good friend. “I like you just fine _as a friend_ , and there's nothing wrong with the way you look or act. ...Though you could stand to be a little less pushy.”

“You really think so?” she asked shyly.

“Yes,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“You're too nice to me,” she said, back to wringing her hands. That thoughtful look came back over her face, and he feared what she would say next – rightly so, as it turned out. “But you _do_ like women, then? So, someday, you could feel that way about me, right?”

“Meg...”

“Then I won't give up!” she exclaimed. “I'll just have to keep trying, cause you're my fiance, after all. I really think we'll be happy together, Zihark!”

“I'm not your fiance,” Zihark protested weakly.

“I understand if you need to be with other women while I'm away, though,” Meg continued, unconcerned. She smiled brightly. “Don't worry, I'll save myself for you!”

_“That's really not necessary!”_  
__

“I broke my promise,” she said morosely the next time they met.

“...That's okay,” he answered, for lack of a better response. They were sitting around a campfire late at night, having found themselves in the employ of the same mercenary group again, this time in western Crimea.

It had been close to a year since their encounter in Begnion, and in that time, Zihark had nearly managed to convince himself that she'd forgotten about him. But here she was again, as chipper as ever. 

“But I won't do it again, nuh-uh! I'm gonna be true no matter who comes along!” Meg insisted, shaking her head. It made her hair fly wildly. She gave a wistful sigh. “He was awful handsome, though...”

“Then maybe you should be with him,” Zihark suggested, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, that wouldn't work. Whole time I was with him, I just kept thinking of you, anyway.”

He nearly choked on his drink, face burning. He honestly couldn't tell whether she'd intended the implication there.

“Oh, and you were wrong, by the way,” she added, casual as if they were discussing the weather. “It turns out I _do_ love you! Cause I thought he was real good looking, but I didn't feel anything like when you're around.” She whistled. “Hoo boy, what I'd give to always have you around!”

“We're not getting married,” Zihark said. She shrugged.

“Maybe next time.”  
__

That year ended up being their longest separation. After Crimea, he seemed to find her everywhere he went. They frequently found work with the same companies, and every time they met, without fail, Meg would repeat her proposal. Likewise, every time, Zihark would tell her no.

But she kept coming back.  
__

In Meg's defense, he really didn't think she was arranging their frequent run-ins, but she certainly made her intentions clear every time they met. In his own defense, the lifestyle of a wandering mercenary was a lonely one, and he could hardly be prepared every time.

When he finally did give in to her advances, he blamed it mostly on having had too much ale. Which, of course, only made the situation that much worse. One moment they were celebrating a job well done, dancing around the tavern with the rest of their temporary company, and the next, she was leaning on him, strong and hot and as inviting as ever, and some foolish part of his brain decided, _Well, if she's offering_...

He woke up the next morning with her head nestled under his chin, arms wrapped around him. Trying to restrain his panic, he managed to slip out of bed without waking her.

He almost ran off to avoid the inevitable. But then he looked at Meg's contented, sleeping face, and he realized with dismay that he couldn't just leave. So he dressed himself and packed his things together, and then he waited for her to awaken.

As she did, clumsily rubbing the sleep from her eyes, hair an unattractive mess, he bit back a smile and the ridiculous notion that it was, in any way, cute. Thoughts like that wouldn't help when he had to tell her it had all been a mistake.

“Oh...g'morning,” she mumbled drowsily. She reached up to stretch, and when the blanket fell away from her bare breasts, Zihark was struck by his own sudden longing. Then she took notice of the gear he'd packed up, and suddenly she seemed much more awake. “Are you in a hurry?”

“I'm sorry,” he said quickly. “I'm so sorry. This was a mistake, I shouldn't have-! ...I'm sorry.”

“Um,” Meg said worriedly, quickly losing her cheer. “Just wait a minute and let me get dressed. Don't you go anywhere!”

She hopped out of the bed stark naked and started to hustle around the room loudly, grabbing her discarded clothing. Blushing, Zihark turned to face the wall until she coughed and announced she was done dressing. If anything, she looked confused at his modesty.

“Okay, now we can talk,” she said with a frown. “Why are you sorry?”

“It was wrong of me to take advantage of you,” he said. “Not when I know how you feel.”

“So...we're not gonna get married?”

No, he desperately wanted to say, but she looked so distraught. And he realized, quite suddenly, that Meg was only a sweet girl from a small farming village, and what if, for her, sex _was_ exclusive to marriage? He knew she was infatuated, which made it a bad idea to begin with, but what if this fling had meant something more to her than he had even realized?

“I...” He struggled to find the words. He berated himself again for slipping up so terribly. He _knew_ the way she felt, and he'd misled her anyway. He had to reject her, of course. But how would she take that? For that matter, what would become of her? Was she from one of those places where an act like this would affect her chances at finding a suitable husband?

“That...would be the responsible thing to do, wouldn't it,” he finally said, mostly to himself. To his surprise, Meg let out a cry and burst into tears, and not happy ones. For a moment, he got the feeling he was looking at the smitten teenager from years ago, rather than the grown woman he'd taken to bed. 

“I just agreed to marry you!” he groaned. “Why are you crying?!”

“W-why would I be h-happy about that?” Meg bawled. “It's obvious you don't want to!”

“So now you _don't_ want to get married?!”

“Stop bein' so darn honorable all the time! What's the point in getting married if you don't even want to?”

Zihark groaned and buried his head in his hands. “I'm so confused,” he muttered.

They sat there quietly until Meg's bellowing sobs had died down into sniffling hiccups.

“Geez Louise, Zihark,” she said finally. “What kind of girl do you think I am? I ain't trying to trap you or nothing.”

“You could have fooled me, with the way you've been chasing me,” he said, smiling despite himself. He looked up and was relieved to see her expression had started inching back towards her usual cheerful countenance.

“When we get married, it's gonna be because you _want_ to,” she announced, crossing her arms and sticking her nose up in the air. “And not a minute sooner.”

“You'll be waiting a long time,” he muttered without thinking, then froze as he realized he'd said it out loud. But Meg only laughed and shrugged.

“That's alright, I don't mind.” She stood up and hefted her own pack over her shoulder, then headed over to the door. She turned around with a devilish grin on her face. “But until then, we had fun, right? So if you ever wanna...well, I wouldn't say no.”

_“Goodbye, Meg!”_  
__

He had no intention of making that mistake again, and fortunately, he saw his vow through this time. They met up every now and again, and she was as direct as ever, but he never let it go as far as it had that last time.

It did give him cause to think, though. The truth was that he hadn't really wanted to be with anyone in years. The laguz woman he had loved...she had been the first, and the last. After the intensity of his love for her, anything less seemed...well, meaningless.

His attraction to Meg took him by surprise, and he wasn't really sure what to do with it. A wayward thought here or there had never been cause for concern, but she wasn't just some passing fancy: she was, he had to admit at this point, a friend he actually cared for.

He was changing, he realized. Perhaps he had been for some time, as far back as the Mad King's War, and he had missed it for how slowly it had come.

It got him to thinking, though. He realized he had outgrown this lifestyle, traveling from town to town with no place to return to, feeling as if he was only wandering through life. It had suited him fine when he was younger, but how long could he scrape by on scraps and wisps of companionship? He wanted a purpose. He wanted a home.

Some scars never faded, he thought as he headed toward Gallia, not at all certain of his own intentions. But in his life, he'd had one great passion, one great love, and maybe in another world, he could have kept it. But this world had scars, too. He wanted to try healing them both.

It was surprisingly simple to find work when he got there. He was welcomed into the heart of the beast tribe with open arms, mostly by the graces of Lethe and Mordecai, he suspected. They dubbed him a diplomat and set him loose in the beast king's palace, where he became the designated beorc-laguz mediator. 

He dealt mostly with little misunderstandings, as easily resolved as they had been started, but for the first time, he felt truly content. It was nowhere near as exciting as the adventures of his younger days, but he had no need for excitement. He was fulfilled by this work that let him become a force for progress, for right.

He had a feeling, for the first time, that he was on a path to home.  
__

And Gallia was a home, quicker than he ever could have forseen. He was at ease in the forests with the straightforward and honest laguz. His old friends from the war offered companionship, and while the strangers there treated him with a respectful curiosity, he was never made to feel unwelcome. They asked him of his past, why he had come there, whether he was lonely without any other beorc around.

He never felt lonely. He thought of all his old friends, spread across the continent, and it made him happy just to have known them. His memories were precious, but the past was the past. Slowly, but surely, he was starting to understand that.  
__

He was walking back from the palace one afternoon, headed for his little home, when he was distracted by a commotion in the square.

A crowd had gathered there in a circle, alternately cheering and hissing, roused into a fervor by some event within Zihark couldn't catch sight of. Curiosity piqued, he made his way toward the edge of the crowd and got the attention of a familiar face, a tiger laguz who worked in the palace.

“What's all the excitement about?” he asked.

“Ah, Zihark, you'll like this,” the man answered gleefully. “A visitor is here, and she's very impressive!”

The faintest hint of excitement began to rise in his chest to match that growing curiosity, and with his friend's help, he managed to push his way to the front of the crowd. He laughed helplessly at the sight there.

That was Meg, sure enough, wrestling in her under-armor with a tiger laguz a full head taller if not any wider, and holding her own nonetheless. Even through her red-faced exertion, she was smiling brightly, an identical grin on the face of the woman she fought. Watching the two of them grapple for a hold, push back at each other, struggle for the upper hand, he could certainly understand the rowdiness of the crowd. It was a sight to see, an undeniably impressive bout of athleticism. He whistled appreciatively.

“This is her third match,” his friend said proudly. “I've never seen a beorc fight without a weapon. Yes, very impressive!”

“She is,” Zihark agreed. He realized he was still smiling, and he couldn't think of any reason to stop. He watched a while longer, until Meg noticed him suddenly. Her happy grin transformed into an expression of shock and then hopeful joy, and then pure pain as her momentary lapse of focus left her wide open to a blow from her opponent. Zihark winced as she barreled over in an almost comical fashion.

“Ah, what was that?” the woman she'd been fighting said, disappointed. The crowd was mixed between equally disappointed boos at the end of the fight, and laughter from those who had noticed its cause.

Meg, for her part, sprang back to her feet with a grin. She started toward him, then stopped and turned to her opponent.

“Thank ya kindly, miss,” she said earnestly. “That was a lotta fun, and I hope we can do it again sometime.” Then she turned toward him again, and her grin became impossibly wider. “Zihark!” she called.

His chest tightened at the unrestrained giddiness in her voice, and he knew somehow he was grinning like a fool. He hadn't felt lonely at all here, no...but seeing her now, he began to worry he might feel some of that sting when she had gone. Was it possible to miss someone so terribly while they stood right before you?

“Meg,” he greeted her. A look of surprise came across her face, and he wondered what she'd manged to parse from his tone alone. “It's good to see you,” he said honestly.

“Y-you too,” she stuttered. He frowned. He was certain she'd recovered from her bashfulness years ago, but there was no denying the way she avoided his gaze, the flush of red in her cheeks.

“What brings you to Gallia?”

“Wha-!” She pouted at him and crossed her arms. “Why, I'm here to see you, of course! Everyone was saying you'd gone and got yourself a home here. I thought I'd come see if it was true.”

“I am glad to see you,” he said. He delighted in the pleased look on her face and he grinned. “I do, in fact, have a home here. I imagine you'll be quite familiar with it soon enough, though, unless you've found someplace else to stay.”

“I hadn't really thought that far ahead,” Meg admitted with a blush. “M-much obliged for your hospitality!”

She gathered her things from where she must have dropped them when the impromptu wrestling matches broke out, the crowd already dispersed. He took her by the hand and began to lead her back to his cottage. She was unusually quiet on the way there, an introspective, worried look on her face. When they arrived at last, she looked away and smiled wryly.

“You know, I haven't even asked you to marry me yet,” she said. “And it's cause I got this feeling...your answer is gonna be different this time. But maybe not the way I want.”

“And why is that?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Cause you're not like before. You're...calmer, somehow. Happier, I think. You always used to brush me off cause you were too nice to tell me to hit the road.” She laughed when he tried to dispute that, shaking her head. “I'm not dumb,” she said. “It's not like I didn't get what you were saying, I just didn't want to believe it. But now...”

She trailed off, and Zihark took a moment to consider her words. A different answer, was it? Perhaps she was right. He'd known exactly what he was doing when he invited her back here.

“This might be the last time, so I wanna do it right,” Meg said, looking at her feet. She took a deep breath, and then she spoke again.

“So let's start here: maybe I didn't know you so well back when we first met in Daein, but I wasn't just chasing you cause of some silly dream,” she said. “I watched you a lot back then, you know. I know you didn't see me, not with all those other amazing folks around, but I sure saw you. My daddy told us everything he knew about you, but he didn't get it all. Cause he never knew just how nice you were to everybody, no matter where they came from, or how you'd get all sad and quiet when you thought no one was looking, or how clever you were neither.” She giggled. “You were real funny when you'd get into those back-and-forths with Ilyana and Sothe. I seen plenty of men who were handsome, or funny, but not a whole lot who were both.”

She frowned and started to play with her hands, that old nervous gesture. He placed his own hand on top of hers, and she stopped and smiled gently.

“Yea, I watched you a lot, but you never noticed me,” she continued. “And I'd get so worked up about it, thinking, how am I gonna win him over? And I'd come so close to saying something, but then I'd get scared and start to worry and I'd be right back at square one! And when I finally thought I'd do it for real, after that big hubbub in the tower, you said I was too young anyway!”

He felt a pang of guilt as he recalled all the times he'd written off her feelings, telling her it was just an infatuation she would grow out of. He'd never realized how serious she was, how deep her affection for him had been for such a long time. But she was still smiling when she continued.

“It was a good thing, though, cause it gave me time to think. And instead of being sad that you didn't notice me, I said to myself, 'Well then, Meg, you're just gonna have to make him notice you!' So when daddy and I got back home, I told him I was leaving to make something of myself. He wasn't too happy about it, but I put my foot down. I thought, next time I meet Zihark, I'm gonna be a proper woman, the kind he'd be proud to call his fiancee!

“I started working with mercenaries, so I could be real strong. Strong enough to make you see me as an adult, not just some kid to be protected. I told some of the girls I worked with about it, and they told me I shouldn't get too strong. They said I should learn how to dance and cook and do my hair up all fancy, but I thought, that's not me. I wanted you to want _me_. I worked so hard for that.

“And...and this is me! Right here, right now, this is me.”

She looked up at him finally, hopefully, and the unspoken question rang loud and clear: _Am I enough?_

He reached his hand out to touch her cheek, looked at this woman who had given so much in pursuit of him. This woman who had changed so little and so much, and after all, hadn't he done the same? Her eyes watered and her face was red, so close to tears, and she sniffled but her gaze was strong. He smiled without thinking about it, relaxed into it naturally, and spoke his mind.

“You're beautiful,” he said.  
__

It was easy to fall into a routine, then. What began as a quick visit soon progressed to her moving into his small home in the forest, waiting for him each day when he returned from the palace, making friends of her own among the tribe. Months went by in that state, and if he hadn't known he loved her the moment she stepped foot in this country, there was no doubt by then. From the start, he realized this wasn't only a temporary arrangement, so he didn't fight the easy shift in their relationship. He let it happen, and as he fell into his life with her, he put the last of his fears to rest.

They were lying together in bed one morning when he took her hand in his and gently folded a ring into her palm.

“It's a little late,” he said, fighting down a blush. Meg only stared at him blankly, and if he weren't so nervous, he surely would have laughed, because how could she not have realized what was happening? She opened her hand to look at the ring, then back up at him. Slowly, slowly, a light came to her eyes, her chin trembled even as her mouth split into a wide grin, and she began to cry.

“Meg,” he said, “will you marry me?”  
__

Later, after they'd celebrated properly, Meg curled up next to him and sighed happily, admiring the simple band on her finger.

“It probably doesn't count until a priest says something, but I'm wearing it just the same,” she said happily. He kissed her forehead. 

“I don't see a problem with that,” he said. The weight of his own ring was real enough, ceremony or no. Meg sat up suddenly.

“You'll come back to Ohma with me, then, right? Daddy's got a nice little piece of land just waitin' for us to start out, just a little thing really, but you know, he says the family just the next farm over is rearing to sell too, so-” Meg stopped when she took notice of his distress. “Course I don't mind staying here instead if that's what you want, Gallia's been real nice-”

“No, it's just...I never really thought of myself as a, er, farming sort of man,” Zihark explained. He looked down at his hands and turned them over, thinking. “I'm not sure I really have the constitution for that.”

Meg laughed loudly, slapping his knee. “Heck, don't you worry about that! I think you can do anything you set your mind to, but even if it don't work out, I can surely handle the heavy lifting!”

“Something tells me your father might not be so pleased with that,” he noted with a dry smile.

“Daddy loves you and you know it. Whaddya think he meant by setting us up in the first place?” She hummed happily. “You think on it, anyway. I'm your wife now, so I'll support you no matter what you choose.”

He thought of Brom, of the stories he told during the war about his wife and his children and his sleepy little village. He thought of the way he spoke, with pride and with joy, as if he were the luckiest man in the world to have had those simple things.

Gallia had been Zihark's first real home, but it didn't have to be his last.  
__

They left Gallia as soon as the weather turned and arrived in Ohma in early spring. Approaching the village, Zihark studied the wide fields, the workers, the modest homes, and tried to imagine himself as part of that world, but the idea was just too foreign. He looked to Meg at his side and thought, this was unbelievable once too. He smiled. He could do it again.

Before they had even reached the village gates, they passed Brom's field, and when she saw him there, Meg wasted no time running over to pull him into a bear hug. Zihark followed behind and lifted a hand in greeting when Brom noticed him.

“By golly, if that isn't Zihark!” Brom said, hefting his plow over his shoulder and laughing jovially. “What brings you here? You finally stopping by for a visit?”

“A little more than that,” Zihark said with a wry smile. Back turned to her father, Meg was sporting a clever grin of her own. “I'm here to officially ask for your daughter's hand. Fair warning: I don't think I can hold her back if you say no.”

Brom's jaw dropped, and then he let out a hoot of laughter.

“Well, I'll be! I certainly won't say no to that!” He enveloped Zihark in a tight hug of his own, then patted him on the back jovially. “Welcome to the family, friend. I couldn't ask for a better son-in-law.” He whistled and grinned. “And I'm right happy for Meg, knowing how long she's been going on about this. My girl sure can be persistent, can't she, Zihark?”

Zihark couldn't help it. The sudden humor overtook him completely, and he doubled over, clutching his chest as he laughed with abandon.

“Brom, old friend,” he wheezed out, “that is the understatement of the century.”  
__

_Meg had an ordinary marriage in her village and had an ordinary family. Her house was always full of laughter._

**Author's Note:**

> Witness: that time I wrote fic for a pairing that no one ships. Also, the struggle of writing a character that has, like, five lines total through the entire game. ...Success?


End file.
